


Captain Kringle

by samulett



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-19
Updated: 2014-02-19
Packaged: 2018-01-13 02:36:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1209595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samulett/pseuds/samulett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Report to Captain Kringle over there. He's responsible for turning the whole ship into a Holiday Hellhouse,” McCoy grumbled, jabbing a thumb in Jim's direction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Captain Kringle

**Author's Note:**

> One of Meg's Christmas presents. I know, it's a little out of season by now, but I only realized today that I'd never posted it. I just really wanted to write something fun and silly (though there is a dab of angst tossed in there), so hopefully it'll at least make you smile!

In hindsight, Spock really shouldn't have been surprised. It was Jim's nature to do anything unexpected, rash, or, in this case, completely unnecessary, though Jim always argued that these things were necessary. But when Spock had woken on the morning of the 25th and had stepped out of his quarters to find the white halls hung with wreaths, tinsel, and baubles, he'd been genuinely surprised. He stood stalk-still for a moment, trying to fathom why the shimmering decorations were obscuring the walls, but quickly came to a conclusion that was both logical and probable: Jim Kirk.  


The walk to the main bridge was much more confusing than usual. The decorations seemed to be unending, and Spock was yet to find an area that hadn't been coated in Christmas cheer. The crew that walked by were eager to wish him the happiest of holidays, and Spock couldn't help but notice that nearly all of them were wearing some sort of decoration themselves, from bracelets of holly to necklaces made from strings of lights. When Spock finally made it to the turbolift, he found that it too was decorated. Gingerbread cookies hung from all possible places, in every shape imaginable. The smell was almost overpowering.  


When Spock stepped onto the bridge, he stepped onto what was less like part of a starship and more like something straight out of the North Pole. Fake snow covered most surfaces, and bows of red and gold lined the viewscreen. The same decorations that Spock had seen in the hallways were present as well, along with a few small pine trees and menorahs that were stationed around the room. The Captain's chair was wrapped in red ribbon, and the crew were all outfitted with a wide array of hats and other festive headbands.  


After Spock's initial shock had worn off, he turned with as much composure as he could manage to the first person available for answers. McCoy was heading for the turbolift, wearing a Santa hat.  


“Doctor, what is the meaning of this?” Spock asked, effectively stopping McCoy in his tracks. He sighed heavily through his nose.  


“Report to Captain Kringle over there. He's responsible for turning the whole ship into a Holiday Hellhouse,” McCoy grumbled, jabbing a thumb in Jim's direction.  


“The entire ship, Doctor?” Spock asked, though he had to admit, he was afraid to. McCoy nodded.  


“You should see the medical bay. Stockings everywhere,” He rolled his eyes and then brushed past Spock, who stood for a moment considering this.  


The only plausible action was to go straight to the root of the problem. Spock spared no time in making a beeline for Jim, who was currently leaning over the back of Chekov's chair, engaged in a conversation with him. Spock planted himself firmly behind and cleared his throat. The two turned to look at him immediately and Jim grinned beneath a set of brown, furry antlers.  


“Morning, Spock. Welcome to our winter wonderland,” He said, then nudged Chekov, who, Spock noticed, had a poinsettia in his hair.  


“Look, Mr. Spock!” Chekov exclaimed, thrusting his hand towards Spock's face, “Look what Captain Kirk has given me!”  


A small, sled-like toy with two white horses attached to it lay in Chekov's palm. The sled's wooden frame was painted with intricate blue designs, and a matching string was attached to the end. Chekov beamed up at Spock.  


“It's a—,” He started, but Spock spoke before he could finish.  


“A troika. A traditional Russian icon, used by Father Frost during the Holidays,” Spock said pointedly, looking at Jim. He simply shrugged.  


“Aye, yes. That's right, sir,” Chekov said, a little disappointed, “I should've known you'd know.”  


“Captain,” Spock said, folding his hands behind his back, “May I speak to you in private?”  


“Of course, Mr. Spock,” Jim smiled, “Chekov, if you'll excuse us. And don't forget to hang up that ornament on one of the trees, alright? They're looking a little bare.”  


“Yes, sir!” Chekov chirped. Jim gave him a wink before beckoning Spock to follow him over to the Captain's chair. Chekov swivelled excitedly around to show Sulu his Christmas gift as they walked away.  


“So,” Jim started, adjusting one of the bows on his chair, “What's on your mind, Spock?”  


“I believe I am right to assume that you had something to do with the current state of the Enterprise,” Spock said.  


“You are, seeing as I had everything to do with the current state of the Enterprise,” Jim said, his pride obvious in his tone of voice.  


“I wish to put forth my disapproval of your actions as this is highly unusual,” Spock said. Uhura walked by, wearing what looked to be an elf hat. It was green and red, with two large and pointed ears protruding from either side of the brim.  


“And that is not standard uniform,” Spock said.  


“Oh, come on, Spock, it's genius. Engineering Elves, Science Santas, and... Command Reindeer, because I couldn't think of anything that started with 'c',” Jim explained. Spock held back a sigh of frustration.  


“But Captain—,”  


“I asked the crew to put them on. They're just following my orders,” Jim said. Darnit. Spock couldn't exactly argue with orders, at least not without being harassed incessantly for the next twenty-four hours. Or longer.  


“Walk with me,” Jim said after a moment of Spock just staring disapprovingly at him passed by. Kirk headed toward the turbolift and Spock followed, though not exactly happily.  


“You have to admit, I did a pretty good job. I tried to incorporate as many cultural traditions as I could. See this?” He pointed to a gingerbread cookie shaped like a fish, “That's Polish.”  


“Fascinating, Captain,” Spock said crisply. Jim didn't seem fazed. The turbolift doors rolled open and the two exited.  


“And that's Lithuanian,” Jim said, gesturing to a straw ornament hanging from one of the pine branches on the wall, “and I tried to make ornaments from other planets, too,”  


“This seems a rather inappropriate use of your time,” Spock said as Jim led him through the halls.  


“I thought you'd be impressed. I had to do a lot of research to pull this off, because I wanted everyone on the ship to be represented,” Jim explained, glancing back to Spock as they walked. He was almost pouting.  


“And while that is admirable, I can not condone it,” Spock said, “You are the Captain, not the interior decorator.”  


Jim fixed him with a disbelieving look.  


“You're starting to sound like Bones,” He said.  


“Where exactly did you acquire these decorations?” Spock asked, completely bypassing Jim's comment. It wasn't a comforting thought.  


“I put a couple boxes in the cargo bay before we left Earth,” Jim said with a shrug.  


“A couple boxes, Captain?” Spock raised an eyebrow.  


“Okay, a couple dozen boxes, but who's counting?” Jim said.  


“Unauthorized boxes, I assume,” Spock sighed.  


“I'm the Captain,” Jim waved him off. He came to a halt in front of his cabin doors. Spock didn't know what to say to rebut Jim's words, so he remained silent as Jim supplied his ID and the doors opened.  


Once inside, Jim headed for his bedroom, while Spock stood uncomfortably by the door.  


“I'd like to enquire as to why you've brought me here, Captain,” Spock said when Jim hadn't returned after several, long seconds.  


“I got you something,” Jim said simply, returning to the room with a box in his hands. It was wrapped in blue, with a white ribbon coated in sparkling snowflakes. He set it down on the table, and Spock approached with caution.  


“A present?” Spock asked, eyeing Jim carefully.  


“Yeah, a present. Open it,” Jim said.  


Spock hesitated.  


“I don't understand. I don't understand this, or what you've done to the Enterprise,” Spock said, his eyes fixed on Jim. There was silence for a moment, and Spock picked up on the slight change in Jim's expression. The smile was still there, but the light in his eyes was suddenly dulled. Then the smile slipped all together.  


“I don't know how things worked on Vulcan, Spock, but the holidays are supposed to be, y'know, special. People are supposed to be safe and comfortable at home, together with their families and getting gifts. Up here, that's not possible. So, I thought I could bring a little bit of home onboard,” Jim explained. There was a tension in the room.  


Jim fell silent, and Spock allowed himself a moment to think. Jim's past was no secret—at least, not to Spock—and he knew for a fact that he had a less-than-perfect childhood. His mother had most often been off-planet, and he and his brother were left to fend for themselves under the authority of their uncle. It suddenly occurred to Spock that perhaps Jim had never had a Christmas like the one he was trying to give to the crew, and something twisted in Spock's stomach, much to his confusion. Sympathy, he guessed. And guilt.  


“I just thought it'd be... nice,” Jim said finally, running a hand roughly through his hair. Silence hung between them again, and Spock tried desperately to arrange the words he wanted to say in his head. He had to apologize. Jim was quicker, though, and he shrugged, a smile—weaker this time—returning to his face.  


“But it doesn't matter. I promise, it'll all be down and over with tonight. No worries,” He said, then pushed the present closer to Spock, “Now, open it.”  


“Jim,” Spock said suddenly, “I must apologize.” Jim raised an eyebrow.  


“For what? You didn't get me anything?” He smirked.  


“No,” Spock said, because it was true, “But that is not to what I am referring.”  


“Then what?” Jim pressed, his head cocked to the side in curiosity.  


“Your celebrations. I acted disrespectfully towards you and your efforts. Though I am not fully human, I understand that such traditions are important and should be valued, not degraded. My actions were completely—,” Spock was cut short as Jim waved him off, a laugh bubbling out of him.  


“Spock. It's okay,” He said, offering a genuine smile this time, “Just open your present and we'll call it even, alright?”  


Spock hesitated again, trying to read Jim's expression. After a moment's deliberation, he decided that Jim truly had accepted the apology, and then reached for the present. He untied the ribbon and set it neatly on the table, then pulled back the wrapping and opened the brown box that was left. Inside, a Santa hat, bright red and soft to the touch, lay waiting. Spock removed it gingerly from the box, trying not to grimace.  


“Merry Christmas,” Jim said in a sing-song voice, “Go ahead. Put it on.”  


Spock looked down at the hat for a moment, knowing that to ignore Jim's wishes now could potentially ruin his apology. He lifted the hat to his head and set it down. Jim looked at him for a long moment, biting his lip, before he burst into laughter. Spock waited with strained patience.  


“It really suits you,” Jim said finally, grinning, “But I think you're missing something...”  


“Perhaps you are referring to my dignity,” Spock supplied, and that sent Jim into another fit of laughter.  


“No, no, it's something else,” Jim said once he had regained his composure. He stroked his chin as he looked at Spock. Then suddenly he stepped forward, a hand flying up to gently clasp the back of Spock's neck. Before words could escape Spock's mouth, it collided with Jim's. Spock was dumbfounded—which, in Spock's case, was a feat—and could do nothing but allow himself to be kissed, while Jim smiled against his lips. The few seconds that the kiss lasted felt like a lifetime, and when Jim pulled away, he was grinning.  


“C— Captain, that—,” Spock fumbled for words that would actually make a sentence. Jim looked to be on the edge of another laugh attack.  
“Wait for it, wait for it...” Jim said, staring at Spock intently.  


“I—what?” Spock asked. He felt a blush creeping it's way across his cheekbones and up to the tips of his ears, and Jim gave a yelp of delight.  


“There it is! Now, we've got red,” Jim reached up and pulled Spock's hat down farther on his head, “And green!” He poked Spock's flushed cheek. Spock was less than amused. He had not signed up to be the Enterprise's Christmas mascot.  


“Captain,” Spock managed to say, “I would ask that you notify me of your intentions before doing that in the future.” Jim laughed.  


“In the future, huh? You got it,” He said. They stood there for a moment, Spock still recovering from the shock of the kiss. He was fighting a smile, but Jim was smiling enough for the both of them.  


“Merry Christmas, Jim,” Spock said finally.  


“And a Happy New Year, Spock,” Jim answered.


End file.
